The Irony in Coming Home
by MarcellaDix
Summary: At the brink of crossing into the darkness, Severus revels in the irony that has brought him there. - Submission for the DEE Drabble Game. Prompts can be found in the A/N below the story.


Severus had known the end was near the moment the Dark Lord had summoned his followers. It wasn't the summoning in and of itself that had tipped him off, but rather the fact that the maniac's familiar, Nagini, was floating in a protective bubble beside her master. This, Severus had known, was the sign that things were coming to a close. Dumbledore had said so himself.

And as Severus knew the war was coming to its climax, signalling the end of the Second Wizarding War, with one side coming out the winner, Severus knew it was his time to die. He had never intended to survive this, and neither had Dumbledore intended for him to survive. The Dark Lord, he imagined, might have liked him to continue serving at his right side, but that had been before Dumbledore had sent Severus to his certain death by asking his loyal spy to end his headmaster's life. The intention behind that had been to leave the Elder Wand with no master at all, but nobody had cared to tell the Dark Lord. To him, Severus was the master of wretched piece of wood, and as such he had to be defeated.

The only thing that had been left for Severus to do was telling Potter that he would need to die, as well; one more sacrifice in the grand scheme of Things Dumbledore Considered Worth For The Greater Good. One more lamb led to the slaughter, and Severus had failed in that final task.

His death came at the completely wrong time. An hour, Severus would have needed only one more hour to find the wretched boy and tell him to die. But no, all his begging had done nothing to sway the Dark Lord's decision, and so Severus was dying, and the Boy Who Lived would live, and with Potter continuing to breathe, Riddle would never be vanquished.

Lying there in the Shrieking Shack, his life flowing out of his torn neck in violent gushes of a red that hurt his eyes with its bright colour in this darkening world that was turning to shades of grey, he wanted to laugh at the irony of it all. He had willingly gone to his death in a place that, years earlier, he had been unknowingly sent to die by a malevolent, spoilt teenager. He had willingly gone to his death at the hands of the man he had pledged his life to in his youth, and this last obedience to his Dark Lord had been demanded of him by the Light one – another man he had pledged his life to in his youth, albeit slightly later.

Yet, no laughter would escape Severus's lips. The only sound resulting of his amusement was a forced gargling that came from the bubbles rising from his lungs through the bloody wound in his neck.

And suddenly Potter's visage was in his face.

Merlin, the boy had never known how to respect personal space. Yes, it was that bumbling idiot Finnegan who had been known throughout the school as the cause to many an exploded cauldron, but honestly, how often had Severus seen Potter creep unnecessarily close to his classmate in order to ask for hints? And how ridiculous that had been in and of itself. Certainly, Weasley had been an admittedly poor choice in brewing partner, but to expect advice from _Finnegan_ of all people, just because Potter was fed up with the Granger chit whispering actually helpful hints into his ear? It was nothing short of a miracle that Potter had not managed to have his own cauldron explode even once during all those years in Potions class.

Severus realized that having Potter here added even more to the ironic manner of his death. It seemed to become a habit of the boy's, to be standing without action above people bleeding to their deaths. Granted, it had been a giant snake who had ripped half his throat out who had caused this (literally) bloody scene, and not Potter trying out spells he had no business knowing, but where was the real difference? A Slytherin was losing his heart's blood, and Potter stood watching.

Now, why wouldn't Potter just get out of his face? Oh, right. It was probably because one of Severus's hands was gripping the front of the boy's robes, pulling him down and close.

"Take… It… Take… It…"

A few rasping syllables were all he managed to utter with what was left of his vocal cords, a plea to take Dumbledore's message and read it from his, Severus's, thoughts, but it seemed enough to make Potter understand, or at least somebody in the room did – a room that was growing ever darker in Severus's vision, or his vision was growing darker, what did it matter now, dead men didn't need their visual sense.

 _Or did they?_

The boy's features were swimming in front of Severus's eyes, morphing into the Marauder he had hated above the others, one that he himself had unwittingly sent to his death. And now that Marauder stood watch over Severus's own death, as if to make sure that the man who had caused him and his wife to die would die himself.

A vial appeared in Potter's hand, and when the boy drew it away from where he'd held it against Severus's face, it was filled with silvery liquid that the Potions Master knew to be the fulfilment of his final task. He breathed a sigh of relief, and more gurgling could be heard.

No, Severus suddenly decided, dead men didn't need their visual sense, but in his final moments of life, _he_ did need one. For in the face of the man who had haunted his childhood, and the rest of his life by taking away the one thing he had valued, _loved_ even, above all others, there were the eyes of the woman who had been stolen from him.

"Look… at… me…"

His final wish was nothing more than a whisper, but more importantly, it was granted.

If Severus Snape could not die happy, which he had never even imagined he would, at least he would not die alone. Not without her. Not without the haunting green that was Lily.

He was home.

* * *

 ** _A/N: This short drabble is a result of the Drabble Game, issued in the Facebook group The Death Eater Express. Prompts were the following:_ Severus Snape, a Marauder, Nagini, Harry and/or Ron, Sectumsempra, an exploding cauldron _. Feel free to follow_ MarcellaDix _on Facebook to get sneak peaks, aesthetics, and answers to all the question you can think of asking. ;)_**


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